


Waiting

by undelicate



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Family Reunions, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing Body Parts, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Waiters & Waitresses, at least i hope not, but not in a gross way lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undelicate/pseuds/undelicate
Summary: “Can I refill that for you?”Minho turned to the voice that came from over his left shoulder, and he was met with the smiling visage of a young man holding a water pitcher. His hair was long and blond and parted to the side; the bangs on his right side were tucked behind his ear and held in place by bobby pins, while the hair on his left cascaded down his face. He eyed Minho’s empty water glass.“Yes please,” Minho barely croaked out.---------AKA Minho attends a family reunion and is thirsty for Jisung.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 36
Kudos: 688





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [bitsori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitsori/) without whom this fic would not exist! ♡

“Ooh-n… bell… bella…”

Minho squinted up at the block lettering displayed over a pristine awning: _Une Belle Journée_.

He gave up after a few more attempts at pronunciation and headed inside the restaurant. He walked to the rear and stepped out onto the terrace where about a dozen long tables had been set up under gentle swoops of string lights. Most of the guests had already arrived and were exchanging fond words over bows and handshakes.

“Minho! It’s so good to see you!” His Aunt Kwon was the first to greet him.

“You too, Auntie.”

Minho bowed and remained there so that the older woman could circle her arms around his shoulders. For someone who barely stood at 150 centimeters, she knew how to give a bone-crushing hug.

Minho’s parents had gotten a head start in greeting the other relatives, leaving him to fend for himself as unfamiliar faces descended upon him with vigorous handshakes and the occasional cheek pinch when they forgot the _twenty_ that preceded the _four_ in his age. It seemed that the number of members grew with each biannual family reunion, hence he’d given up on trying to match faces to names.

Aunt Kwon invited him to sit beside her (not that he could’ve refused) and fortunately, she asked him questions that were more affectionate than prodding. His seat happened to be at the end of the table, so there wasn’t anyone on his side opposite of his aunt. Thank goodness for small favors.

Once everyone was seated, Uncle Lee stood up with a welcome speech interspersed with jokes to further lighten the mood. Shortly after, the waitstaff took orders for appetizers and drinks; Minho opted for split pea soup and apple cider. The intricately decorated crystal flute in which his cider arrived made him wonder if he should have ordered champagne instead.

About an hour into the gathering, Minho’s dinner entrée of sole piccata arrived—a filet of fish marinated in a creamy sauce of butter, white wine, and lemon juice. It smelled delicious, but his appetite wasn’t whetted yet.

Instead he stared at a stray cat prowling on top of a brick wall along the terrace. It sat down toward the end of the wall with its tail curled around its feet, licking its front paw a few times.

“Can I refill that for you?”

Minho turned to the voice that came from over his left shoulder, and he was met with the smiling visage of a young man holding a pitcher of water. His hair was long and blond and parted to the side; the bangs on his right side were tucked behind his ear and held in place by bobby pins, while the hair on his left cascaded down his face. He eyed Minho’s empty water glass.

“Yes please,” Minho barely croaked out.

In a smooth and steady motion the server tipped the pitcher over with two hands, the murmur of water swilling in the glass sending a tingle down Minho’s spine.

“Thank you,” he said. The other nodded and walked farther down the table in search of other glasses to refill.

Minho didn’t realize he was staring at the young man until a finger poked his shoulder.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Aunt Kwon said, pointing to Minho’s plate of fish. “The sole is to _die_ for.”

He put on a smile and obliged his aunt by tasting a corner of the filet. He was pleasantly surprised by the easy texture that bore no hint of fishy aftertaste, and the mild lemony zing of the sauce.

As he took his time to appreciate the meal’s subtleties, the blond server was back in his peripheral vision. He was bowed near a guest as his hair obscured the left side of his face.

 _Lemons_ , Minho thought, inspired by the taste lingering on his tongue.

Before he could rub two brain cells together, he motioned to the blond server until the latter perked up and walked back toward Minho.

“Can—may I have lemon wedges for my water, please?” Minho asked.

The young man’s eyes softened, and Minho felt a thudding in his chest.

“Of course. Just a moment.”

Minho caught his name tag that glimmered a metallic sheen as he walked away: _Han Jisung_.

In an effort to distract himself from acting like some giddy schoolboy, he resumed his meal and enjoyed the way the capers popped with salty zest around the creamy flavor. In between bites of sole, he picked at a side dish of roasted brussel sprouts, savoring the nutty bitterness that complemented the main dish’s flavor.

The server—Jisung—returned with a small plate of lemon wedges.

“Thank you, Jisung-sshi,” Minho said, locking eyes with the other. Jisung looked a bit flustered upon hearing his own name before bowing and walking away again.

Over the course of the meal, Minho downed water like a drowning person starved for oxygen, and by happy coincidence it was Jisung who noticed the empty glass and came to refill it each time. At one point, another waitstaff had approached him with a pitcher, but Minho put a hand over his cup with a _thanks but no thanks_ expression.

Er, yes. Pure serendipity.

By the fourth refill, Jisung paused to remark, “Your dedication to hydration is admirable.”

“Well, I _am_ feeling quite thirsty tonight,” Minho said, and he winked before he could stop himself.

_Oh god._

He double-checked the clear liquid in his glass, worried for a second that he had actually been downing vodka this entire time. Alas, his actions were of his own sober accord. His ears started burning and he cleared his throat, unable to look the other in the eyes.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Jisung said softly. “To quench your thirst.”

Minho turned around to face him again, and though Jisung was lifting up his water pitcher for emphasis, his mild expression hinted at something else.

Minho swallowed and nodded. Perhaps it was best to lay off the water for awhile.

* * *

The sun had begun its descent in the evening sky with clouds streaked with pinks and purples washed over by beams of gold. Minho relaxed in the pre-sunset warmth and afterglow of the meal now settled in his stomach, and his gaze turned to Jisung at the far end of the terrace. With his hair glowing in a dazzling halo and the sleeves of his fitted dress shirt rolled up to the elbow, he was the living version of the handsome princes that Minho had imagined from childhood fairytales.

His heart was doing somersaults again in his rib cage; he couldn’t remember the last time any muscle of his got this much of a workout.

How embarrassing—yet he couldn’t look away.

The servers began making the rounds to take dessert orders. Despite the high chances of making a fool out of himself again, Minho hoped that Jisung would cover his table, and for once, the heavens answered his prayers.

When it was Minho’s turn to order, Jisung bent down a little farther, his lips hovering closer to Minho’s ear than before. “Would you like tiramisu, strawberry cheesecake, or tarte tatin?”

Minho started a bit at the chills running down his spine. “I’ll have the cheesecake.”

Jisung raised an eyebrow as he scribbled on his notepad. “Excellent choice. Any coffee?”

“Cappuccino please.”

After taking orders from the adjacent table, Jisung returned with a cart stacked with pastries. Minho watched as Jisung skillfully weaved in and out of bodies distracted in conversation, placing their desserts and beverages in front of them with an artful touch.

“Are you feeling warm, my dear?” Aunt Kwon asked Minho in a volume louder than necessary. Right when Jisung was hovering over them, of course. “You’re looking a bit flushed. Maybe you should take off your jacket.”

“It must be the alcohol,” Minho supplied, eyeing the golden liquid in the flute next to his water, then he shut his eyes as the stupidity dawned on him.

“Honey… that’s apple cider you’ve been drinking.”

From the corner of his eye he saw Jisung suppress a grin, which only made Minho blush harder. He shrugged off his blazer nonetheless.

Jisung’s arm lightly brushed against Minho’s shoulder as he placed the cheesecake slice and cappuccino on the table.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

 _Your number. Your heart. Your ridiculously pretty face on mine._ Minho dumbly stared up at him.

_My lost brain cells._

“More water, perhaps?” Jisung added, to which Minho sank down in his chair and nearly groaned in embarrassment.

“I’m good for now, thanks.”

* * *

The sun had dipped into the horizon by the time all desserts were brought out, but the night was far from over. By some twisted turn of family tradition, the rounding of desserts in his family outings signaled that conversations were merely getting started. The post-meal bliss had dissolved from Minho’s system, leaving him deflated to the bone. He glanced at the time on his phone and knew he was buckled into his seat for another two hours at least.

Jisung had drifted farther and farther away and was now on the opposite side of the terrace again. Minho hadn’t touched his cheesecake, taking a few mindless sips of his cappuccino instead.

More family members of varying obscurity came around, and he fielded their questions as best he could:

_What have you been doing since graduating college? Why are you still single? Can I set you up with my coworker’s daughter/son/niece/nephew/yoga instructor? Your face looks a bit swollen, have you been eating salty foods? Your cheeks are sunken in, why aren’t you eating more?_

In the end, he resigned to play the bullseye to everyone’s loving arrows.

Aunt Kwon seemed to sense his dour mood and let him be in favor of talking to the guest next to her. She gestured wildly at one point, flinging her arm into Minho’s space and knocking the coffee cup that he was raising to his lips out of his hand. Brown liquid splashed all over the front of his dress shirt and onto the napkin on his lap; the people around him gasped themselves into silence.

His immediate thought was relief that the coffee wasn’t very hot, then he funneled his concern to the wet mess that clung to his torso.

“Oh sweetie! I’m so sorry!” His aunt swiped at his chest with a cloth napkin which only spread the stain around.

Shortly afterward, an older man approached him—Mr. Yoon, the restaurant manager according to his name tag. “Sir, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Minho said, failing to draw his mouth into a smile.

The man was unconvinced and continued, “We’d be more than happy to provide you an extra shirt.”

“Thank you, but really, I’m fine—”

“Jisung,” Mr. Yoon called over his shoulder, “please escort our gentleman guest inside and kindly give him a fresh shirt.”

A minor wave of panic set in Minho’s stomach, and a moment later, Jisung appeared and gently tapped his shoulder.

“Follow me, please.”

Minho drew a deep breath and did exactly that. Jisung escorted him into the restaurant and toward a back room with rows of lockers—the employee changing room, Minho presumed.

Jisung rummaged through a tiny supply closet and pulled out a crisp white employee dress shirt and a fresh towel, holding them out for Minho to take. In doing so, he glanced at Minho’s torso before looking away with ears tinged pink.

Minho accepted the items with a muttered thanks. He then looked down at his own body which his very much wet shirt was clinging to, his chest and stomach leaving little to the imagination. He quickly pulled the fabric away from his skin, feeling his own ears burn.

“Feel free to use the employee’s washroom down the hall to clean yourself off. I’ll leave you to change,” Jisung said as he made toward the door. “Don’t worry about returning the shirt, you can keep it.”

“I’m Minho, by the way,” Minho blurted out, staring at the other’s back turned to him. “Thank you for your kindness tonight.”

Jisung nodded without turning around and exited the room.

* * *

It had been a good ten minutes since Minho had changed into a fresh shirt, but he remained sitting on a bench in the middle of the room. After being subject to hours of chatter, he was grateful for the silence, even if he knew he was a pathetic sight to behold right now.

“Minho-sshi?” Jisung’s voice came from the doorway. “Is everything okay?”

He slowly stepped into the room, and Minho looked up from the bench with a weak smile.

“If it’s alright, I’d rather stay here for awhile,” Minho said.

Jisung sat down at the opposite end of the bench, tangling his fingers together. “Not big on family reunions, huh?”

Minho exhaled a chuckle and shrugged.

Jisung slid over to sit closer to Minho.

“Look, it’s obvious there’s an… attraction between us,” he said in a quiet voice, blond bangs falling over his eye. He pushed his hair back and glanced away in a nervous motion. “Unless I read you wrong—”

“No,” Minho said in haste, surprised by Jisung’s candor, and he tapered his voice. “You weren’t reading wrong.”

Jisung turned his head slightly toward Minho with a small smile. He shifted closer on the bench until their thighs were nearly touching.

“Since we don’t have much time, we should just get to it,” Jisung whispered. His eyes fell to Minho’s mouth and the latter felt his heart stumble on itself.

“Oh—” Minho reeled at the directness, but Jisung’s open and honest expression soothed the edges of his nerves. He had hoped to procure Jisung’s phone number and maybe a peck on the cheek at most, but he hadn’t counted on the other being so eager. And he certainly wasn’t complaining. “Okay, then.”

He closed his eyes, tilted his head, and began to lean in.

“Red, winter, Iron Man, My Mom Is an Alien. Your turn.”

Minho’s eyes sprung back open. “What?”

“Your favorite color, season, Marvel superhero, and ice cream flavor,” Jisung said with a furrowed brow, as if it should have been dead obvious.

Minho returned the puzzled expression but scrambled for an answer anyway. “Umm… mint, autumn, Ant-Man, Strawberry in Love.”

Jisung hummed and tapped his chin to consider the answers. “Acceptable.”

“Wait, why do you get to judge my answers but I don’t get to judge yours?”

Jisung blinked. “Because I have good taste.”

Minho rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a growing grin. “I’m gonna need more solid proof than that. And it’s only fair that I should get to ask you something in return.”

“Shh, lower your voice,” Jisung lightly pressed his index finger to Minho’s lips in a shushing gesture. “Okay, fine. But please hurry, I don’t have much time.”

Minho was rendered speechless from the unexpected— _intimate_ —contact. Jisung’s fingertip briefly traced the curve of his lips before falling away.

“Umm, okay,” Minho gathered himself and ignored the tingling in his lips. “Cats or dogs?”

“Cats, but I won’t pass up the chance to pet a dog if I see one.”

Well. Minho _definitely_ wanted to kiss Han Jisung now.

He raised a hand to touch Jisung’s face, but he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the room accompanied by a voice calling out, “Jisung? You in there?”

“Quick, in here,” Jisung whispered as he frantically pulled Minho up by the arm and shoved him into the supply closet, following right behind and shutting the door.

Minho questioned, “Why am I in here when you’re the one they’re looking f—”

Jisung’s hand flew up to cover Minho’s mouth.

They both stood in absolute stillness, their gazes fixed on each other under a fuzzy light bulb as they listened to muffled shuffling and murmurs beyond the closet walls.

A minute later, the footsteps grew faint and silence settled back down.

Even though they were in the clear, their eyes remained locked together, and Jisung’s pupils had become enlarged in an unreadable expression, his hand still covering Minho’s mouth. Minho’s heart went off like a jackhammer at their closeness. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, and perhaps pushing more stupidity into his brain, he pressed a slow kiss to the palm of Jisung’s hand.

Jisung’s breath hitched softly in surprise but he didn’t pull away. His eyes darkened further as his lips parted open just barely.

His reaction encouraged Minho to place another kiss to his palm, and he carefully curled his fingers around the other’s wrist to remove the hand from his face. He leaned down and kissed the inside of Jisung’s wrist with the gentlest of pressure, all the while maintaining eye contact. Jisung drew his breaths a little heavier.

“This is weird,” Jisung said.

Minho froze, his lips parted in mid-kiss against the other’s inner arm.

Jisung curved his mouth into a smirk. “Keep going.”

 _We’ve got a cheeky one_ , thought Minho with a smirk of his own.

His lips traveled down Jisung’s inner forearm at a leisurely pace. He attended to each sensitive area by alternating between featherlight pecks and deliberate presses, dragging his lips across soft skin before settling onto a new spot.

By the time he reached the inside of the elbow, mouthing the extra sensitive and heated skin right where the rolled-up sleeve ended, Jisung’s breaths had grown audible, his mouth gone slightly slack. Minho smiled against Jisung’s skin knowing that he was the reason the beautiful man before him was becoming slowly undone, one thread at a time.

“As much as I’m enjoying this unusual method of seduction,” Jisung’s voice faltered as Minho’s lips trailed back up his arm, “I think a proper kiss is in order.”

“That can be arranged,” Minho whispered back, releasing Jisung’s arm.

He placed a hand on the right side of Jisung’s face; his fingertips brushed over the pins that held down the hair tucked around his ear. _Pretty._

Jisung leaned into the touch, settled his hands on Minho’s waist, and tilted his head up till their faces were millimeters apart. The scent of Jisung’s cherry lip balm lingered between them, and Minho was eager to know the taste.

As he watched Jisung’s eyes flutter closed, a pang in his bladder almost brought Minho to his knees. He inhaled sharply at the sensation which was now pulling at him in unrelenting waves.

“Shit, I have to pee really bad,” Minho hissed. He had to physically stop his legs from crossing. He bit his lower lip in distress as Jisung pulled back with a flurry of emotions passing through his face: exasperation, amusement, disbelief, sympathy.

“That’s what generally happens when you drink a jugful of water in a short time.”

“This is all your fault, you know,” Minho whispered through his teeth.

Jisung huffed a laugh. “Yes, my secret power is controlling other people’s bladders.”

“More like being so cute you cause people to hydrate beyond their means.” Minho had meant to come off suavely but was betrayed by another pang in his bladder.

A blush spread across Jisung’s cheeks; maybe the dumb line had worked after all.

Jisung opened the closet door and craned his neck to confirm that the coast was clear. He guided Minho out with a hand on the small of his back.

Minho thanked him and zoomed to the restroom.

After concluding the longest pee in either recent or distant memory, Minho returned to the changing room to find that Jisung had already left.

* * *

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry again about the coffee,” Aunt Kwon said as soon as Minho returned to his seat.

“It’s okay, Auntie.” His words were addressed to the woman next to him, but his attention lay in searching for a familiar blond head.

After twenty odd minutes which felt closer to an eternity, Jisung popped back into view from the far side of the terrace. He zigzagged from table to table, being pulled in all directions by restless hands shooting up in the air. It didn’t look as though he’d rejoin Minho’s side anytime soon.

There was a blissful moment in which Jisung caught Minho’s gaze and smiled brightly in return. He started to make his way toward Minho until he was intercepted by Manager Yoon who pulled him aside to speak with him privately. Jisung’s face turned solemn as he nodded a few times. He bowed at the older man and headed back into the building, but not without throwing a forlorn glance at Minho.

Harsh strings of guilt pulled at Minho’s chest. _Shit,_ _what if I got him into trouble?_

He shouldn’t have lingered so long inside, selfishly passing the time with Jisung because of some budding juvenile crush.

The stray cat from earlier had returned and was sitting on the same brick wall. Minho watched it groom itself until it plopped down on its side, blinking lazily back at him. He was glad for the distraction from his current thoughts.

“Only you get me, kitty,” Minho said under his breath.

Another cat ambled across the wall and greeted the other with a friendly headbutt. They were soon curled up together, eyes blissfully closed, and they groomed each other’s ears occasionally.

Minho sighed. “Never mind.”

“Shall I wrap that up for you?” a server piped up beside him, politely gesturing to his untouched cheesecake.

“Sure,” he replied without looking up. “Thank you.”

* * *

Dinner concluded at eleven o’clock. Minho’s parents told him that they’d planned another round of late-night coffee at a nearby cafe with some relatives, but that Minho was free to go home if he wished. He bowed and bid farewell to the people around him as warm hands clasped around his own.

As much as he’d wanted to escape all night, a part of him would miss this: the sincerity of an imperfect familial love.

“It was good to see you, Auntie,” Minho said as Aunt Kwon reprised her bear hug.

“I need to see your handsome face more than once every six months, okay? I’d be happy to treat you to lunch any time.”

Minho smiled easily because he knew her words were true.

He stepped out of the restaurant doors and headed down the sidewalk with takeaway bag in hand, toward his car parked a few blocks away. The spring night sky was hazy with the moon shrouded by clouds, and a few specks of stars were mapped out like lonely beacons.

There would be another six months till the next family gathering, but thinking back on the new faces he’d met tonight, he wondered if it was enough time to recover.

“Minho-sshi!”

Minho turned on his heel to the familiar voice and saw a blur of blond hair sprinting toward him. He leaned back awkwardly when the other halted at the last second, barely avoiding crashing into him. Jisung bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Jisung-sshi?”

As Jisung straightened himself up, it was as if the moment unfolded in slow motion: his hair falling into place, his eyes glimmering, his mouth curved in a sweet expression.

Minho may have heard a songbird or two chirping in the background. “I—Hello.”

“I’m glad I caught you in time,” Jisung said, panting lightly.

The strings pulled at Minho again as his mind replayed earlier events, and he rushed to speak, “Listen, I’m sorry if you got into trouble because of me. I shouldn’t have kept you as long as I did.”

Jisung crinkled his nose. “Huh? You didn’t get me into anything.”

“Oh,” Minho exhaled, “that’s good to hear then. I just thought when I saw your manager talking to you...”

“We have a lot of guests coming in tomorrow, and the event planning staff needed some last-minute help, that’s all.” Jisung paused with a fond gaze. “But it’s sweet that you were worried about me.”

Minho cleared his throat and stared at the takeaway bag in his hand in an attempt to thwart the blush creeping up his neck. It was futile, as expected.

“Do you like cheesecake?” he said finally.

“It’s only my favorite.”

Minho held out the bag to him; Jisung accepted with a sheepish smile.

Suddenly Minho didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he shoved them in his trouser pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. His skin thrummed with a nervous energy that teetered on exhilaration. “So when does your shift end?”

“In about 40 minutes.”

“If it’s okay, I’d like to wait for you.”

Jisung ducked his head and smiled widely at the ground. “I would like that.”

He brought out his phone from his pocket and gestured to Minho to add his number; Minho handed him his own phone, mirroring the request.

“Sorry for the lip balm stain, by the way,” Jisung said following the exchange.

Minho blinked in confusion. “Where?”

Jisung stepped forward to cradle the side of Minho’s face with a hand, and he pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Right there,” he whispered close to Minho’s ear before stepping away. “I have to get back now, but see you in a bit?”

Minho touched his cheek with one hand and gave a small wave with the other as he watched Jisung head down the sidewalk. His blond hair glowed and dimmed under each street light he passed.

After his heart had calmed down a bit, Minho clasped his hands behind his back and took his time returning to the restaurant. He lingered under the awning for awhile, his chest feeling full yet impossibly light.

He leaned against the brick wall of the building and watched the moon emerge from a veil of clouds. He couldn’t pin down the feeling in his chest—or yet dare to call it love—but he would figure it out eventually, and he was happy to wait as long as he needed.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> (Han Jisung has good taste!)
> 
> Thank you for reading~ ♡


End file.
